


sound among silence

by ostentatiouslyrealistic



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Astronaut AU, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 14:01:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13009362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ostentatiouslyrealistic/pseuds/ostentatiouslyrealistic
Summary: "Houston, I repeat, Houston, we have a problem."The familiar crackle of the mic on his end spluttered to a halt. He waited with a baited breath, fingers coming together to twist and pinch at each other. The silence in the vacuum of space was a solid price for the unnerving beauty that came with it. He didn't know which he'd rather have—scratch that, he'd definitely prefer the mystery of the unknown.Suddenly, his earpiece came to life, crackling and striking a high pitched whine in his ears, and his spirits rose dramatically at the gruff voice that came from the other end."What do you want now, Lance?""Hello there, space cadet. I'm bored."--Going into space for a solo mission meant he expected making observations about earth and the universe, floating through small compartments, and drinking water orbs from the air. Falling in love wasn't exactly on the agenda.





	sound among silence

**Author's Note:**

> I know nothing about space travels. And let's pretend that the Garrison is like NASA.

_Day 0_

Terrifying.

That was the word that Lance would use to describe how liftoff felt. The rumbling that shook around his seat and rattled his controls unnerved him, and he was very close to launching himself forward and slapping his hand against the red button that would halt the mission.

What if one of the engines failed?

What if one exploded?

What if the ship exploded?

What if the ship exploded _with Lance inside_?

Those were the only thoughts that ran through his head, and it was starting to sound more and more like a broken record. It was annoying, but it was also effective in hyping his paranoia. His fists tightened against the restraint that kept him safe and tight against the uncomfortably rigid seat.

"Liftoff in 10."

The words hissed and crackled against his earpiece, and Lance reached up to shakily voice his concern. "Hey, uh, Hunk, buddy, is it too late to stop the ship?"

The response was immediate, and his best friend's voice exited the speaker that made his voice tinny and odd—much different than the deep hoarseness he'd grown accustomed to after years of training with the guy. 

"Lance, it'll be fine! Everything here says that the ship is all good; everything's functional and working properly, and there's a good chance you'll reach space in no time."

"But buddy—"

 _10_.

The countdown started immediately, and Lance could feel his heart start to pound at his ribs in rapid succession. The engines that had rumbled idly underneath him started to roar. His teeth clacked against each other, and his vision started to vibrate uncomfortably.

"Oh! Liftoff is starting—

_9_

—and I'm not supposed to talk to you during this—

_8_

—so good luck, Lance! Things will be fine!"

The comm went silent, whisking away the crackling and hissing that Lance was starting to prefer over the engines that thundered beneath him.

_7_

He took a deep breath, shutting his eyes. This was what he'd dreamed of for the longest time.

_6_

A chance to visit space—to see the unknown.

_5_

To glimpse a universe few had ever seen with their own eyes.

_4_

And he was going to savor that endless beauty.

_3_

Oh god, this was happening. Really happening—

_2_

_Oh god, oh god, oh god._

_1_

He squeezed his eyes shut tighter and tensed his body.

_0_

_Commencing liftoff._

 

\--

 

_Day 10_

If he were being honest with himself, he had quickly gotten accustomed to space much faster than he had anticipated. The weightlessness didn't bother him. All the training he'd done underwater and in the modules the Garrison had provided him had prepared him for this oddity. Though, he'd admit that using the bathroom was a lot more unusual than he'd anticipated.

Urinating into a tube wasn't too comfortable, and doing his other business—well, that was something he'd have to get used to.

Other than that, getting around and eating, and drinking were much more interesting. He loved floating through the small compartments, feeling the weightlessness in his arms and legs as they wafted through the air. It was similar to swimming, and as a swimmer-turned-astronaut himself, he very much lived in the sensation of coursing through the air.

Drinking water was also an activity he enjoyed. Squeezing water out of a pouch into the air, he would watch, fascinated, as the orb would elongate and then snap back to normal, as if being bounced against an invisible box. Drinking water straight from the air felt surreal.

Most of all, he adored the sight outside the heavily plated glass. Though it sat before him, ready for exploration and observation, space stayed an enigma. The many colors that blinked at him from out there subtly reminded him of glitter; as if someone had scattered a handful of it onto a canvas of black velvet.

And on the other side of the ship, he could see it—home. Beautiful in pictures and books, nothing compared to the real sight of earth in its full glory. With clouds that swirled and sifted through the atmosphere, it was more devastatingly beautiful than all the simulations he had undergone. And when "nighttime" fell, the cities came to life, which was a sight to behold.

But his newfound lifestyle and stunning sights meant he had to trade in a year of companionship.

Space was striking. But it was also lonely.

 

\--

 

_Day 27_

"Houston? Hello? I have a quick problem," he fingered the mic with one hand, the other twisting around the air tube that was his restroom or, he'd prefer to call it, his 'urinating tube'. He waited for a good moment, narrowing his eyes at the knob that was used to turn the suction on.

A slight crackling in his earpiece alerted him to a response, and he shifted it around until he heard a high pitched, noticeably feminine voice. It sounded foreign to his ears, especially after hearing his own voice for almost a month. But it was also a relief.

"Hello? ISE-552623, this is Pidge. What's the problem?"

Lance pursed his lips, bringing the tube up to his face. "The restroom is broken."

Crackle. "What?"

"The suction won't start, and I have to pee."

Another crackle. "Have you tried turning it off and on?" Was that a hint of amusement he detected? Grinning widely, he shrugged even though he knew no one would see it.

"Oh, come on," he chuckled into the mic, "I really gotta pee here."

This time, the crackling accompanied a huff of laughter, and Lance was left with a feeling of familiarity. He had missed this. Missed talking to other people. It was an everyday lifestyle that had suddenly been abandoned the moment he was launched into space, and this was like stumbling home.

"All right, all right. The Garrison didn't quite train me to fix toilets—I'm more of the tech supervisor, so I deal with wires and shit." There was a hint of pride to her voice. Lance whistled loudly. Being accepted into tech meant genius level skills.

"Impressive, Pigeon."

"It's Pidge. And let's figure out how to fix this damned toilet."

 

\--

 

_Day 32_

"...the cabinet isn't really stuck, is it?" Pidge's voice was swallowed up by hissing and a high pitched whine that penetrated his ears.

Lance floated back, eyes glued to the perfectly functional cabinet that stored his supplies. With resignation, he breathed out, "No."  

"Lance, I know it gets lonely up there, but your communication partner will be back soon." She sounded sad and a tad bit irritated, whether it was directed at him or not, he didn't know. He hoped it wasn't directed at him.

"How soon is soon?" he sighed, brushing back his hair. Pidge made a quiet 'I don't know' hum, and they fell into silence.

 

\--

 

_Day 45_

"Hello?"

The voice was gruff and low, much different from Hunk's friendliness and Pidge's snark. Rather, this tone was filled with reserved patience and a hint of exhaustion. But this was the first time his comms had crackled to life without his initiation, so he reached up to his ear to press at the button.

"Hi?" His tone was unsure, but it perfectly masked the anticipation and simultaneous excitement and dread that welled up between his ribs. There was silence from the other end until the earpiece came to life.

A moment of crackling and hissing passed between them, and Lance could hear the person on the other end take a deep breath. And he could almost imagine a hand rubbing a furrowed forehead.

"No need to sound so excited," he joked, putting down his pencil. It levitated in midair, and with a flick of his finger, it started to spin wildly. A laugh echoed from the other end, and Lance felt the corners of his lips pull into a wide smile.

"Sorry, I'm not very good at talking to others." The voice was a lot less stressed, leaning towards relief and a tad bit of awkwardness.

Lance waved his hand in the air in a protesting wave, accidentally slapping the spinning pencil. It shot across the small compartment and ricocheted off the wall with a solid _clang_. He managed to dodge the writing utensil, snatching it up from the air.

"Shit," he muttered, setting it down onto the desk, next to his journal entry. The person on the other end made a choked sound.

"Sorry, if you want a new communication partner, I can request someone else—" It was now filled with uncertainty and self consciousness. Maybe a little bit of defiance.

"Whoa, whoa," Lance backtracked, "stop there, space cadet. I accidently shot my pencil across the air and almost killed myself."

"Oh."

"So it's no problem. I'm Lance, by the way—or if you haven't read my file."

There was a slight hesitation, and then—

"Keith."

"Well then, it's nice to meet you, Keith."

 

\--

 

_Day 63_

"What do you do? I mean, what's it like being on communication duty?" The question wasn't how Lance meant to start the conversation. He had meant for there to be a 'good morning'. There was no concept of time where he now lived, but common courtesy was a thing—a thing Lance had forgotten for just a moment.

He lightly tapped his cheek with the palm of his hand. The movement felt a little odd, especially since he was floating on his back, eyes glued to the metal screws that lined the ceiling. It was a nice reprieve from the vast universe outside his shuttle. Sometimes, it left him in a state of loss, especially since it was one of those days where he felt tiny and useless compared to the enormity that expanded outside.

The comms stayed silent. Sometimes Keith answered. Sometimes he didn't. Most of the times, it was a tossup between the two.

It crackled, to Lance's delight, and Keith's voice slurred through the earpiece. "What?"

He raised his brows in amusement at the lone question, "Long night partying, space cadet?"

"Wait, what?" This time, it came out sharper than before. Lance laughed, bringing his hands up to make a box with his index fingers and thumbs, and pressed it against his face, framing the ceiling in his sight.

"You sounded hungover for a moment there."

"What? No, no. Just tired. That's all." His tone slipped again, and this time, Lance could hear the grogginess that lined his voice.

"Sure, sure. There's no harm in partying it up, space cadet," he sang into the mic, and Keith made a sound of protest. "Just kidding, just kidding."

He could hear a huff of exasperation from the other side. Throughout his short time with Keith, he had learned three things.

1) Keith was introverted.

2) He was a serious person.

3) Teasing Keith was like prodding a bear with a bendy twig.

"What was it you asked? Earlier?"

He pushed his hands away from his face until his little makeshift frame surrounded a lone screw. "I just asked what it was like being on communication duty. I mean, do you just make sure my sanity's in check? Or do you do other things?"

Keith hummed. In the background, Lance could hear the distinct chatter that always filled the communications room. It struck a pang of loneliness deep within his bones and rang clear in his consciousness. He was now very, very aware that he was alone.

"I mean, I do other things. Sometimes I help one of the tech people with calculations—oh, right, you can't see air quotations. But mainly I just hover over their workload; they don't need my help. That would be disastrous. But most of the time, I just make sure your shuttle is functioning correctly, and I converse with you." The sound was filled with static and quiet chatter.

Lance nodded slowly and dropped his hands, folding them on top of his stomach. "Are you—are you ok with talking to me?"

"What do you mean by that?" The question was tinged with surprise.

"I mean," Lance ran a hand through his hair, "do you ever get annoyed? Cause I get it, if you do."

"Wait, Lance, where is this coming from?"

"I don't know," he mumbled, exhaling deeply. "I just...I don't know." He groaned in frustration, "Forget I said anything."

"Wait, wait." This time, Keith's voice was more firm, "stop. No, Lance, it's completely fine. It's not a burden to me—at all. Like, I get it. I think I'd feel the same if I were up in space alone. You just want someone to talk to, right?"

A small noise of agreement escaped his throat before he could stop it.

"So yeah, it's honestly no trouble to me..." At this point, his voice was starting to trail off into an awkward pause, "And you're not so bad." This part came out begrudgingly.

"Hey, I'm amazing." The words were confident, but his tone wavered with uncertainty.

"You're in space, so yeah, you're definitely amazing."

 

\--

 

_Day 65_

Lance stared out into the dark abyss peppered with light and thought of home. The feeling of loneliness was starting to weight down his spirits, and he slumped forward to press a hand against the glass.

It was cold.

And the day was spent in silence.

 

\--

 

_Day 82_

Lance was in the middle of preparing a log when his earpiece started to fizz and sputter. He paused his actions and waited, cocking his head in confusion.

"Hey, busy?"

He fumbled around with the camera, worried that he'd drop it and send it shattering. Then he remembered that he was in space and that the scenario wasn't possible, so he threw his hands up, leaving it to hover in midair.

"No, what's up?"

"What's—"

Lance waited and pushed the camera down gently until it sat on a surface. Once he was sure there was no possibility that he could repeat the pencil incident, he pushed back on his heels and gently drifted midair.

"What's space like?"

The question caught him off guard. However, it was also something he had expected to come up earlier in their conversations. The fact that it was happening so late somewhat puzzled him.

"That's sudden, but uh." He lightly pushed against the wall and glided towards the window, staring out into the darkness. "It's polarizing, I guess."

Keith stalled, his breathing consistent against the earpiece. "That's...not what I was expecting, to be honest."

Lance chuckled and gazed around, "It's definitely beautiful, don't get me wrong. But it's just inexplicable. It doesn't compare to any pictures you can find on Google."

"I bet," Keith sighed, and Lance could hear the wistfulness in that little breath.

"But," he continued, "it gives me the worst existential crises. I mean, when I look out, I see how the universe expands in all directions, and it makes me think that we're tiny, you know? We're basically flecks of floating dust compared to everything out there. And it doesn't help that the universe is just slowly expanding more and more. So that brings us—or well, me—to the question of 'what is our purpose?' 'What are we meant to do?'"

There was silence on the other side, fizzing and hissing with the consistent rhythm of breathing to let Lance know that Keith was still there, still listening.

"But, give me a secon—shit, shit, almost spilled something," Keith took a deep breath, and Lance could hear the clinking of metal against porcelain, "But why are you worried about that? I don't think anyone is supposed to know what their purpose is, let alone know the meaning of life."

"But I just—it's just something that's hard to let go," Lance rubbed the area between his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Don't worry too much about it. I'm sure you'll find out, and want my opinion? It's completely ok not to know your purpose in life or the meaning of it. Just go with it, you know?"

"Thanks, Aristotle."

"Shut up."

 

\--

 

_Day 97_

"Hey, I feel like you know more about me than I know about you," Lance whined, flicking a water orb in the air. It glided forward, and he launched himself over before it could splatter against the wall. That'd be a waste.

"Um, what do you want to know?" The question came out choppy and hesitant, suddenly guarded. Lance didn't like the sudden turn.

"Any pets?"

"Nah, too much of a hassle," Keith snorted. "You?"

"Well, in space, I'm not allowed—"

"You know what I mean."

"Party pooper. And no, not at home. But my parents have a dachshund back in Cuba. Any siblings?"

"Yeah." This came out even more guarded, "but I don't like to talk about it too much. Not right now." Lance quickly backtracked.

"All right then. All right, then. Hmmm," he pondered on a question, "anyone special in your life?"

Keith suddenly barked out a laugh, and Lance started, then relaxed at the sound. He preferred a more chill conversation anyway.

"No, I'm too busy for a significant other."

Lance didn't quite realize how he'd relaxed at the answer.

 

\--

_Day104_

"Shit, shit! Houston, we have a problem!" Lance pressed the multiple buttons on the screen, biting his lip and taking a deep breath. The earpiece immediately sprang to life.

"Lance? What's wrong?! What's going on?!" Keith's tone was frantic and on the verge of panicking. "Do you want me to grab Pidge?"

"No," he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. He breathed out a loud sigh. "I completely forgot that the FIFA World Cup was coming up. And the shuttle gives shitty wi-fi."

There was a deep moment of silence. Then—

"What the _actual fuck_ , Lance?!" The explosion caused a high pitched ringing in his ears, and Lance physically pulled back. "I thought this was a _fucking life-or-death situation. You fucking asshole!_ "

He held up his hands in mock defense, "Calm down, space cadet. Please stop yelling into the mic. My ears are actually ringing."

"Stop— _stop yelling?!_ You scared me half to death, you ass!"

"Ok, ok," Lance hoped his tone was placating enough, "dick move on my part."

"Damn right," Keith's volume had gone down a notch, but it was still somewhat vibrating with barely contained rage, "I'm pretty sure I just lost ten years of my life."

"Sorry, sorry," he chimed, pressing back on the screen, "will not do again in that tone unless I'm actually hurtling down the endless void we call space."

"Lance." The warning was there.

"All right. Will not use tone again unless there's an actual emergency."

Keith growled angrily, and the earpiece went silent.

 

\--

 

_Day105_

He stared out into the blackness that swelled before him, eyes drifting from one small prick of light to another, and breathed out a sigh.

"Houston, I repeat, Houston, we have a problem."

The familiar crackle of the mic on his end spluttered to a halt. He waited with a baited breath, fingers coming together to twist and pinch at each other. The silence in the vacuum of space was a solid price for the unnerving beauty that came with it. He didn't know which he'd rather have—scratch that, he'd definitely prefer the mystery of the unknown.

Suddenly, his earpiece came to life, crackling and striking a high pitched whine in his ears, and his spirits rose dramatically at the gruff voice that came from the other end.

"What do you want now, Lance?"

"Hello there, space cadet. I'm bored."

Keith groaned loudly, and there was a small _thunk_ from the other end. Lance picked up his pencil and started to twirl it between his fingers. "Hey, I didn't use the 'tone', so you knew there was no emergency."

"England." That wasn't the response Lance was expecting. He scribbled the word onto his journal.

"What does—"

"England won the FIFA cup."

"What?! Really?" And he launched into a barrage of questions, each one demanding for the specific games and occurrences, while Keith scrambled to type in the questions onto the net in order to find the answers.

Somewhere along the way, the first butterfly began to flutter in the pit of Lance's stomach.

 

\--

 

_Day134_

It was another one of those days, and Lance attempted to sketch the earth at night. The lights from the big cities were fascinating, like bundles of Christmas lights that no one had bothered to untangle. It stretched through small portions of the land, dimming as it reached the outskirts of city boundaries until all that remained were a few specks of light.

Very similar to space.

And when he finally lost track of which dot of light he was on, he gave up, shoving the journal into the little desk compartment, and grabbed his water pouch.

A good run on the treadmill would clear his head.

 

\--

 

_Day 143_

He idly scribbled along the header of a blank page, pencil looping and plunging with light scratches. When he lifted it off the page, he blinked, uncomprehending.

_Keith._

"Oh fuck," he muttered and set about to erase the name off the page.

 

\--

 

_Day 174_

Disbelief was his first emotion because _what the actual fuck_?

"Houston, hello? Yeah, I have a problem."

The comms sparked to life, and Keith's voice rang out, confused and a bit worried, "That sounds bad. What's up?"

"Sh, sh," Lance hushed him, eyes still wide with incredulity at the screen that sat in front of him. "Keith, there's something we have to talk about."

"O—k?" This came out nervously, almost tentatively. His eyes followed the curve of a well-sculpted jaw up to the violet eyes that impassively gazed back at him through the screen. But what really caught his attention was the nape of his neck.

"I'm having a crisis _because_ you—you have a mullet," he spluttered, and he leaned in, eyes fixated on the tuft of hair that curled up.

"That's it?" Keith's tone was appalled, "That's seriously it?"

Lance reached up to poke at the screen, flicking up where that small tuft of hair also angled out. "Keith, you don't understand the gravity of the situation—ha. Anyway, this is a fashion crisis. Mullets went out of style decades ago."

He could hear a muffled groan from the other side. "You are unbelievable."

Lance snorted, "Your mullet is unbelievable."

He'd never admit out loud that it actually suited him.

 

\--

 

_Day 184_

"You're at the midway point, you know?" Keith's voice startled him, and he choked on the small orb of water. Coughing and wheezing for air, he beat a fist against his chest until the airway cleared out.

"A little warning next time would be much appreciated," he rasped.

"Sorry." Keith didn't sound very sorry at all. Instead, it sounded like he was holding back laughter. "But I'm required to tell you that your next batch of supplies is coming in five days, so the Garrison wants you to prepare for package reception."

Lance nodded, tilting his head up to finish draining the floating sphere. Swallowing heavily, he grabbed another and tore it open. With a quick squeeze, the water oozed out of the pouch and levitated into the air.

"I wish they'd send me a cookie. A good chocolate chip cookie. I miss those," he sighed. "The Garrison's biscuits are dry and disgusting. Who would even consider that shit a good snack? It's an insult to all cookies in the world. And I heard that NASA actually gives their astronauts food! Real food! Keith, why is the Garrison so cheap?" He took another sip, slightly swishing the liquid in his mouth.

"Cause they're the Garrison," he chuckled, "And, yeah, I had those biscuits during training. They were pretty gross, but the Garrison says they're 'packed' with nutrition, so you're getting your daily servings." Wait, training?

"Hold up, training for what?"

There was a pause, and Keith audibly exhaled. "I, uh, was training for your mission, actually. Then I dropped." It was said so casually, as if repeating the weather, and Lance inhaled sharply, nearly choking again.

" _You_ were the pilot ahead of me? Iverson said I only got in because someone dropped, and that was _you_?"

Keith made a small whine, "But look at you now! You're the one in space, so it still played out well." Then something clicked.

"You're Kogane!"

"Well, yeah, that's my last name! I thought you would've seen when you read my file!" Keith spluttered, and there was a very, very quiet moment where Lance felt like the biggest idiot to ever be sent out into space.

"They put me in comms cause they knew I could understand what you're going through now, and I do, so now I'm here," Keith continued, his speech rate getting quicker with each word. His voice died at the last word, and Lance rubbed his forehead, shutting his eyes.

This was Keith Kogane, ace pilot who should've been sent into space, and yet here he was, also the reason Lance could see what the rest of the world couldn't.

"Thank you," he suddenly murmured, "for the opportunity. But why did you drop? It just seemed so sudden. One moment, I'm preparing for smaller missions, and the next, I'm suddenly promoted to senior pilot for a solo mission."

Keith remained silent, though the earpiece still crackled and hissed. "My brother got into a car accident." He took a shaky breath, still audible through the comms. "And uh, it was bad."

"I'm sorry." The two words, so generic and automatic, yet Lance couldn't think of anything else to say. "That must've been tough."

Keith coughed, and his voice deepened roughly, "Yeah, it was. His arm had to be amputated, and there was a lot of post-trauma for him and his wife. It was hard times."

"Are they all right now?" Lance shut his eyes. He couldn't imagine balancing family with rigorous training—if he had to pick between the two, he'd give up the Garrison in a heartbeat, even if that meant painfully losing his dreams. The decision Keith made must have been near impossible.

"Yeah, Takashi got his arm replaced with some new prosthetic, and Allura's been trying to help him get used to it. I couldn't balance the Garrison with family, so I dropped it. But then, Iverson came up to me and told me I could be a communications specialist if I still wanted to help out. Apparently, one of the tech specialists, Pidge—she rallied for me. Said that whoever was going up into space would probably feel better if they had someone who understood everything they had to go through."

Takashi. Why did that sound so familiar?

"Takashi Shirogane?" The name rolled off his tongue easily.

"Yeah." Keith sounded surprised. "You know him?"

"Your brother is Takashi Shirogane?" He had heard about the accident. The Garrison's best pilot who had underwent one of the most successful space missions ever accomplished. Of course Lance had heard his name. The guy was his hero. And Keith was his younger brother.

"I was adopted into his family when I was young, so yeah. Just followed in his footsteps and everything." Lance was left with an odd combination of emotions, but the one that stood out most prominently was sympathy.

"I'm sorry that happened to him, and I hope he gets better. I—I don't know what else to really say..." Lance trailed off, his mind racing with this new information.

"No worries, you don't have to say anything. That's just a thing, I guess. But uh," Keith paused, "Thanks, I guess, for listening."

"Thanks for telling me."

 

\--

 

_Day 195_

He finally got around to unpacking the new set of supplies. Pulling out a box of frozen biscuits, Lance made a face, and he pushed the package away lightly. It glided smoothly through the air until it hit the metal wall, creating a soft collision that sent it wobbling the other way.

"Serves you right," he muttered, eyeing them with distaste. Underneath was another load of water, all compressed into spherical pouches. After that, there were more inferiorities that the Garrison considered food. To his delight, he found two blank journals for him to work with.

However, something at the bottom of the box caught his eye, and he reached in. What he felt was something small, a package of some sorts. And when he pulled it out, his eyebrows rose and a smile grew widely on his face.

A small roll of Oreos sat in the palm of his hands, and a sticky note was attached to the side. Pulling it from the package, he glanced at the crudely written handwriting and felt his heart start to beat rapidly.

 _It's not a chocolate chip cookie, but it's the best I could do_.

 

\--

 

_Day 245_

The question was nagging him wildly, prodding at his brain and driving him insane. He'd avoided having to ask Keith because that would be awkward, but devising a question without seeming obvious seemed impossible.

He'd try another day.

Maybe tomorrow.

 

\--

 

_Day 246_

Maybe the next day.

 

\--

 

_Day 258_

"Space cadet, you there?"

The response was immediate, "Yeah, what's up?"

He chewed on his bottom lip, unsure how to proceed, "Could I—uh, can I talk to someone?" The question came out weirdly, and he mentally face-palmed himself.

"Uh, yeah. Give me a sec, do you have someone in particular in mind? Or do you want me to get Hunk again? Or Pidge?"

"Hunk please."

There was a few clicks on the other side, and then Keith muttered, "Ok, rerouting your signal. Here we go." The comms went silent before resuming its crackling and high pitched whining.

"Hunk Garrett speaking." There it was, the hoarse deepness of his best friend's voice, and Lance felt a surge or relief and a pang of homesickness.

"Hunk!"

"Lance?" There was a gasp, and then, "Lance!!" It had been a while since he'd spoken to him, with all his time into making observations and jotting them down. A lot of his time also went to conversing with Keith. At the thought, his mood became somber, and he attempted at a fake cheerfulness.

"Hey, buddy, how are you?"

"I'm all good, but buddy, how are you? You don't sound that great. Everything all right up there?" Of course, Hunk would be able to hear straight through him. It was something that had always been a distinguishing trait for him. Lance fidgeted with his hands, pulling at his fingers, and rubbing his palm.

"Hey, sorry to ask again, but only you can hear me right now, right?" he whispered, as if that would lessen the possibility of anyone hearing him.

"Um, yeah, only me. I thought we already went through this," Hunk sounded unsure and worried. Lance sighed.

"Good, cause I wanted to ask you a hypothetical question."

"Yeah, what's up?" This time, he sounded more concerned than anything else.

"Is it possible—hypothetically, of course—that uh," Lance wasn't sure how to phrase the question, and he groaned in frustration.

"Lance, buddy, you're worrying me here." He held up his hands, shaking them wildly.

"No, no, it's nothing bad." With that, Hunk breathed a sigh of relief. "This is all hypothetical," he repeated, hoping to get the point across.

"Yeah, all hypothetical, I got you," Hunk said, his tone filled with curiosity.

 "Is it possible to," Lance took a deep breath, "likesomeoneyounevermetbefore?"

"What? Wait, I need you to slow down and repeat that."

"Is it possible to," he lowered his volume, "like someone you never met before?" He enunciated the last few words and then let his voice drift off. His cheeks started to burn, and he was thankful that there was no one around to see him.

Gazing out, he watched the stars twinkle from a distance, almost as if laughing at him, and he scowled.

"Lance, is this about Keith?" The question was so abrupt that Lance was taken aback

"No! This is all hypothetical!" he yelped. Hunk snorted, and Lance could almost imagine him learning forward, arms folded on the desk in front of him with an understanding glint in his eyes. The image sent a rush of trust for his best friend, and he quietly admitted, "Ok, what if hypothetically, this was about Keith?"

Hunk hummed in thought, and there was a signature squeak from the rolling chairs at the Garrison. "I don't know what to tell you, but I think it's possible."

"Is it?"

"Yeah, in almost every conversation we've had, other than asking about your family and talking about space, you almost always bring him up. And that's not something to get embarrassed over! Lance, I know you too well. Don't start to stress eat later."

He brought a hand to his chest in indignation, "I do not."

"You do. And I can't tell you anything for certain, but he's been looking happier and happier since he got back to work. And I think part of that has to do with your conversations with him. So I wouldn't rule out the possibility of him liking you back, but I also wouldn't say that he definitely likes you back. You know?"

He sighed, folding his arms, and rubbed at his elbows. The gesture was comforting, and he leaned back. "Yeah, I guess. Thanks buddy. You always seem to know what to say."

"Ha! I'd be a bad friend if I didn't, right?"

"True, that's why you're the best."

 

\--

 

_Day 274_

"Keith? I got a question for you."

The comms started to crackle, and the sound had become a daily part of his life. He wondered what it'd be like to go back and hear people talk without it. Probably weird. Very weird.

"Yeah?"

Lance inhaled deeply and then asked, "Ok, hypothetical question."

"Shoot," Keith sounded curious and amused. That was a good sign.

"Say you're at a bar, and a pretty girl buys you a drink. What do you say?" There, he finally got it out. This was the best roundabout way he could think of.

"Where is this coming from?" he asked, after a moment of stunned silence.

Lance muffled his frustration and impatience into the palm of his hand, and muttered, "It was a dream. And I'm bored."

Keith made a thoughtful sound. There was the faint click of a pen being pressed at a consistent rate. "I don't really know? I guess I'd tell her I was flattered and let her know that women aren't really my cup of tea. You?"

He nearly slammed into the wall in surprised. There was a mix of emotions that unfurled in his chest, one of which was a weird conglomeration of excitement and relief.

"I guess," he cleared his throat, "it depends. But I don't think I'd take it. Don't get me wrong, I play for both fields, and I'm always down for a free drink, but I wouldn't take it." There was a barrage of coughs that came from the other end, and Lance stopped. "Keith, you all right?"

"Yeah," he wheezed, "water went down the wrong hole. Why do you ask?" It was too early, and maybe this was because Lance just woke up, but he didn't quite want to believe the hopeful tone underlining his voice.

"No reason."

 

\--

 

_Day 325_

He was torn.

The countdown for going back to earth was getting closer and closer. For one, he was enthusiastic about setting foot on solid land, seeing his family, and eating all the foods he had desperately missed. He looked forward to Hunk's greeting hug and the pan of fresh baked brownies that they both knew were his favorites. The idea of seeing Keith in person felt almost unreal, and he already knew he'd be at a loss as to what to say.

But...

At the same time, he'd miss the view outside his window. He'd miss waking up to see the stars feather light in the dark depths of space. The earth in its full glory as a greeting whenever he went to write at his desk, and its nighttime arrays of light that rivaled the beauty of the universe. The mystery and enigma of the world beyond would falter away the moment he got closer and closer to earth, and he would miss it all.

He'd even miss the crackling and hissing of his comms.

 

\--

 

_Day 356_

"You almost ready to go home?" Keith asked. Lance made a small 'I don't know' noise. They fell into silence.

"I guess, I'm kind of ready? It feels surreal, like I wasn't in space for that long, and yet it felt like the longest year of my life," he murmured. Biting into a biscuit, he chewed on it thoughtfully. The taste didn't really bother him anymore.

"That's fair. But you do get to see your family, your friends, eat food that's not dry-freezed. A lot of good stuff," Keith said. They were good points, and Lance found his lips curling into a small smile. _And I get to meet you face to face_.

The thought flashed so quickly through his consciousness that he nearly choked. "Fuck," he groaned. Too soon, that was too soon. But there was that small pinpoint of possibility and hope that he couldn't seem to quite squash.

"What? Lance? You all right?" He realized he hadn't spoken for a good minute, somewhat preoccupied with his thoughts.

"Yeah, no. I'm good. Just nearly choked on this damned biscuit. And you're right. I can't wait to eat a burger and stuff myself with shitty fast food." Keith laughed, and the sound was like a breath of fresh air.

 _Oh man_ , Lance thought, _I'm a goner._

 

\--

 

_Day 365_

Today was the day.

This was it. He was finally going home. Taking a long breath, he stared out into the vast depth that was space and burned the image into his memories. He allowed himself a moment of wistfulness, of pure admiration and  reverence.

No amount of pictures or paintings could ever capture the full beauty of space—of its brilliant stars and growing enigma. There was a specific emotion that Lance always felt when gazing outside, but he couldn't explain it. He just couldn't. There was something about its enormity that threatened to swallow him whole, and he wouldn't mind it. Not if he could revel in the loveliness and mystery that the universe provided.

The comms spluttered to life, the hissing and crackling its signature welcoming, and Keith greeted him, "Hey, everything packed and good to go? Ready?"

Lance sighed and watched his breath fog against the glass. Then he turned away.

"Ready as I'll ever be. It's time to go home."

 

\--

 

_Day 369 – on earth_

His first step against solid ground was wobbly, his entire body shaking as it adjusted to the sudden gravity that immediately felt foreign. Stumbling forward, he tripped and squeezed his eyes, bracing himself for impact.

It never came. Or well, it was a lot softer than he expected—and smaller.

"Oh my god, get off. You're heavy."

That feminine voice—the one that had kept him company for almost a month in Keith's absence—he recognized it. And when his eyes fluttered open, they were met with round glasses paired with a round face and an excited grin.

"Pigeon!" he exclaimed, throwing both arms around her. He didn't even bother to stand, and she kicked at his shin.

"It's Pidge!" she protested, "and dude, for real, get off. You're a tall guy wearing a space suit, and I'm only a small technician. So get off!" With that, she shoved him off, not letting go to help his stability. Once she gauged that he'd be fine, she lunged forward and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Glad you got back safe. That was a bumpy ride," she murmured into his suit. Even though he didn't know her quite as well, he felt a fondness and likeness that came from friendship, and he patted her back lightly. She would make a great friend in the future—he just knew it.

Suddenly, they were both scooped up into a bear hug, strong arms hugging them both to a wide chest underneath a sobbing Hunk.

"You're back. Lance, I've missed you so much, and I'm so happy you're back on earth," he blubbered. Pidge made an odd noise between suffocation and protest.

"Buddy, Hunk. We're killing Pigeon here," he wheezed, which turned into a groan when her elbow dug itself in his ribs. He couldn't tell if it was accidental or not. Probably the latter.

Hunk released them, and Lance and Pidge fell into a heap on the ground. The smell of freshly cut grass was a pleasant intrusion, and he inhaled deeply. He'd missed earth a lot more than he'd anticipated.

With a bit of struggle, he managed to pull himself upright and dusted the grass off his suit. Hunk watched him with tearful eyes, and Pidge clambered up, brushing grass and soil off her hands. She adjusted her glasses and gestured towards the shuttle.

"I'm gonna check it out," she grinned, practically vibrating with excitement. Lance and Hunk both nodded, and she shot off. Turning back to him, Lance fell forward with a laugh, hugging Hunk tightly.

"I've missed you too buddy," he muttered. This sent his best friend into another round of tearful wails, and Hunk clutched him tighter. When they finally pulled back, Hunk reached up and pulled at a strand of his hair.

"Look at you, your hair has gotten long. Speaking of..." he trailed off and glanced behind him. Lance followed his gaze, heart pounding as he glanced through the crowd, and found a face he'd only ever seen in the Garrison database. Hunk turned and shoved him forward, "He's been wanting to meet you. And I'm sure you've been dying to meet him too."

On wobbly knees and swelling emotions, he moved towards the crowd, gaze fixated on the pair of violet eyes that followed his movements from the back of the throng of people. And when he was finally standing in front of him, the chatter and congratulations from the others fell among deaf ears, and all he could make out was the roar of blood and the pounding of his heart against his ribcage.

"Uh, hi." Keith's voice was much deeper in person, the hissing and crackling that normally accompanied his messages absent for the first time. Lance found it hard to believe. The voice that had kept him company and sane was right there in front of him.

"You're," he paused. Keith cocked his head, his tufts of inky hair bouncing with the movement. Lance cleared his throat and continued, "You're shorter than I imagined."

The other man scowled deeply, eyes narrowing and lips pursing. "Just by a bit!" he muttered, looking away. And Lance found himself moving on his own accord, stepping forward to wrap his arms tightly around the smaller frame. He hooked his chin over his shoulder and buried his nose into his hair.

Keith froze, his body rigid, and Lance began to think that this was a huge mistake. He loosened his arms, but then Keith relaxed, his arms coming to wrap themselves around his waist.

Lance, overcome with this barrage of feelings, could only manage to choke out two words.

"Thank you."

Keith nodded against his shoulder, and they stayed put in that position, the crowd around them melting away. The hug was nothing that Lance was familiar with. It was nothing like the ones his mother and father had given him throughout his childhood. It was nothing like the warm bear hugs that Hunk would occasionally pull him into. This one was foreign, and yet, it was so, so familiar. It held of gratitude and promise, and when they both pulled away, they had eyes only for each other.

Keith quirked his lips into a small smile. "Welcome back, Lance."

He huffed out a laugh and mirrored the grin.

"It's good to be home, space cadet."

 

**Author's Note:**

> And they lived happily ever after. 
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](http://www.quiznaksicles.tumblr.com)


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